The Big Exciting (and Disappointing) News

So, once again it has been more than a month since my last post. But the month of June was quite jam packed. Before I get to that adventure, I promised I'd tell about something else that happened during the run of the Marvelous Wonderettes.

On March 17 I did a pregnancy test and it came out positive!

I knew I was really pregnant because my period is as regular as a stopped clock. I was two days late and feeling very strange down there. Went to my doctor for confirmation, bringing my husband and my calendar with my menstruation tracking on it. We both had lots of questions, as you could imagine. Our biggest worry is that the baby be healthy despite our "advanced" ages.

Anyway, she told me I was about five weeks and we set an appointment for some blood tests, which came back pretty normal for pregnancy.

My parents had no idea that we were even thinking about having a kid. And technically, we don't call it "trying." We call it "no longer preventing." If we have a kid, great. If not, we like our lives the way they are, too. I have no intention of doing fertility drugs, ovulation tests, timing sex, or any of that stuff a lot of people do when trying to conceive. It'll happen the natural old fashioned way or not.

So I decided to mail the positive pregnancy test to my parents as a "late" birthday present for my mum. (See what I did there? Hee hee hee.)

I got to see her reaction through Skype. Well, half her reaction. I could see one eye because she was too close to the camera. But that eye got huge all of a sudden.

The package arrived and surprised my parents on March 31. I guess I was around seven or maybe eight weeks by then. Since my parents got their gift, I decided to start telling people that I was expecting.

By the way, I did tell my fellow Marvelous Wonderettes before that day. I spilled the news during our limo ride in costume on the way to our opening night performance. My friend Sarah already knew, having deduced from something I said during one of the appearances we made prior, but I wanted all of them to know in case I started behaving weird, like not eating all the junk I'm known to love.

Anyway, the day after my parents found out was April Fools. I went to teach my Group Power class that morning. One of the participants said something to the effect of, "If I hear one more person say they're pregnant or engaged, I'm going to punch them!"

I laughed and said, "Yeah, I was going to announce that I'm pregnant, but I realized that if I told everyone today, no one would believe me."

The room went quiet as this sunk in. Alicia, one of my fellow instructors, said, "Hold it. Are you pregnant? For real? Are you just playing with us?"

I smiled and said, "Yes, I'm pregnant for real. No joke. I really am."

General pandemonium as people squealed and congratulated.

And then Mother Nature played her April Fool joke on me: that night I started miscarrying.

It was like a bloody floodgate opened. My doc scheduled another blood test and sure enough, my progesterone count had dropped. The lady who took my blood seemed sadder about it than I was. In fact, she was so sorrowful I almost started crying. But I realized that it wasn't my emotion making me that way, it was hers. So even though she said, "It's okay to cry," I did not.

It seemed crazy to me that, as people found out that I'd miscarried, their reactions were far more emotional and sad than my own. We live in an area that has many deeply religious folks, and I imagine that might have something to do with it. They considered it a life lost, as if I'd already had the baby.

I guess it didn't really bother me that much because I knew it was a distinct possibility. I'm thirty-eight years old, spent decades on the pill, and have never been pregnant before. If I didn't have a miscarriage first time out, I would have been shocked.

Also, seven weeks was hardly long enough to process the information. I hadn't been thinking of baby names or college funds, clothes or food, or anything. I hadn't really even considered whether it would be a boy or a girl. As soon as I knew for sure I was pregnant, suddenly I wasn't.

I trust my body. It has worked so well for me over the years I have no reason not to. And I trust whoever or whatever is in charge of running the Universe. If this is on my life's agenda, it will happen.

But it sure was strange, feeling like I needed to comfort other people when I was the one who had the miscarriage.

My doc prescribed me a medication, the name of which slips my mind now. A common one that goes inside the vagina and "finishes off" the miscarriage. I think mine was pretty close to done at that point because I didn't have all the horrors that other women have described using that stuff. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought it was just a really late, really heavy and clotted period that lasted more than a week.

And so now things are back to normal for my body. And life goes on as it always had.

There are a few changes on the near horizon, though. These changes would be beneficial if I got pregnant again. I'll be talking about those in a future post.

Next up: The Great Alcan Highway Adventure!